Seeing Things
by ADisgraceFF
Summary: Lysander knows what the future holds. He sees without looking and he can even tell what you're thinking.
1. Seeing Things

Lysander never looks. It's not right to look. It's a betrayal, a violation of a person's most private possessions; their thoughts. If you don't have your mind you have nothing at all.

It used to be such a burden as a child, seeing what you shouldn't, hearing things that should never be heard. But he's learned to control it, somewhat, there are still some mishaps. He wouldn't go so far as to call it a blessing, but it's certainly not a curse, at least not anymore.

He doesn't look, but he still sees. He see's thoughts and memories, try as he might to avoid them, and even the future. He doesn't get to decide what he sees, it just comes to him. He's never foreseen the lottery numbers, predicted a catastrophic event, or even his own car accident, it's just chance. Deciding what he sees is a matter for the universe.

In fact what he foresees is usually pretty useless. He'll never know why the universe, in all its infinite wisdom, chose to show him that Iris will order Chinese food on Friday or that Nathaniel is getting an 89% on his biology exam, but off all the billions of moments happening at any given time, at least he's seeing the harmless ones.

Sometimes this unusual skill comes in handy.

He's standing in the corridor in school, down by the lockers and chatting to Kim about their midterm break when the vision hits. Wet. Dripping. Soggy pages. Running ink.

"Uh, Lysander?" Kim asks confused.

Lysander's away with the faeries, starring off into nothingness with glassy, unfocused eyes. It takes Kim speaking up to pull him back down to Earth. He doesn't excuse himself for zoning out, he's no good at lying and instead focuses on the subject of his vision.

"Something in your bag is leaking." He points towards a dark wet spot blooming out from the bottom corner of her schoolbag. It's a small spot, not dripping yet. There's no way he could have noticed it naturally.

Quickly Kim rummages through her bag and finds the source of the problem. The cap to her water bottle wasn't screwed on straight and it's been leaking slowly. They've caught it early and no damage has been done.

"You're a total lifesaver Lys, thanks."

With a smile Lysander politely excuses himself and when the gratitude wears off Kim is left with a thought; how did he even notice that?


	2. The Right Hand of the Father

**This chapter contains scenes of violence**

* * *

Lysander jumps awake. His hands tremble as he clutches at his chest, feeling his heart pound and his breathing come quick and ragged. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat and his sheets lie in a heap from a night spent thrashing unconsciously.

He will not sleep again tonight.

Sounds of screaming invade his dreams. He sees fists raised and more hands protecting an unseen face. Bruises. So many bruises. One figure turns his back but the punches follow him. A bloody lip screams "stop," but the pain continues and pleas for help gradually become feeble whimpers.

It's not a dream but a vision. What he's seeing is not something his subconscious fabricated from his thoughts and feelings, this is either the present or the future, it's somebody's ghastly existence.

He doesn't recognise the voices, but he feels that if he's experiencing a vision of these people, he either knows them or will come to know them. And over the coming weeks, the voices and the people behind them grow more familiar. Lysander lives out his days anticipating another glimpse of cruelty.

He knows these people now, not their names but their lives. One is old, large, and almost always angry. The other is younger, smaller, calm, and obedient. The younger one does whatever he can to appease the older one, to keep him content, but he's never in a good humour for long.

Lysander is easily distracted by his abilities during the course of his everyday life. If he's not pulled away from the moment by a vision itself, he's busy staring at people's hands for signs of bruising or violence. He makes eye contact during conversations, but only to look for black-eyes that may have been covered by makeup. When he sees cracked lips he never knows if it was caused by the cold Winter air or by someone's fist.

He's in class when he gets the last of these series of visions. He sees a finger pointing, hand gesturing wildly. A voice booms about nothing in particular but the words are dark and cruel. The same hands, those of the older man, reach out and push the younger man by the shoulders. The young one is thrown against the wall and the picture frame above him rattles with the force of the blow.

Lysander's mind's eye looks upwards to the photo in the frame. It's an ordinary looking family with two kids, a son and a daughter, everyone is all smiles. He recognises them, it's all become clear.

Nathaniel.


	3. Seeing Through Him

Castiel's growing suspicious. There's been one too many times where Lysander's passed him the tissue box before he's even sneezed, known about breaking news before the news channel does, and predicted the outcome of sports games too often to be a coincidence.

And he doesn't take it seriously at first. More than anything, it's funny how the guy who forgets his stuff knows seemingly impossible things. But it's one errant comment that changes it all.

"What? Are you psychic or something?" Castiel laughs as Lysander correctly answers the 13th quiz show question in a row.

To most it would be a harmless quip; to Lysander, it feels like an accusation. Lysander's eyes widen and he quickly narrows them again to hide his surprise. "What makes you say that?"

Castiel scoffs. "It's just a joke Lys, chill."

"Right," Lysander lets the conversation die there, but his discomfort is palpable and the space between them feels heavy. He doesn't answer any further trivia questions.

Silent moments aren't unusual between them, but awkward ones are. Quick to move on from it, Castiel turns off the television and changes the subject. "Do you want to go into town and get something to eat? I'm fucking starving."

"Sure," Lysander says, standing up and instinctively patting his back pocket to check he has his wallet, "But go the long way into town, there're delays on the motorway."

Castiel checks the traffic map on his phone and it's completely bare, there's not a single crash, delay, or incident anywhere. "Nah, the app says it's fine."

Lysander ponders a second. "Maybe it hasn't been updated yet."

Castiel lays his phone and car keys on the coffee table and takes a seat. "How do you know that?"

Lysander raises a brow and continues standing. "I thought we were going out to eat."

Castiel shakes his head. "Not 'til you get straight with me. How do you always know…"Castiel pauses, unable to choose his words. He doesn't have facts to lie out; it's more a set of circumstances he can't explain and an odd feeling to go along with them. "Everything. You always just _know_ things, and it makes no sense."

Lysander doesn't move, doesn't respond. He stares ahead like a deer in the headlights. He's been caught out.

"Earlier I joked that you're a psychic and you got all weird about it. Are you?"

Again, no reply.

Castiel raises his voice. "Lys, are you damn psychic or not?"

"Yes"

Lysander winces in anticipation and turns away. He's been caught now and he's going to hear all about how he's a freak, he's unnatural, he's everything the ugly voices in the back of his head told him he was.

But nothing happens.

Slowly he opens his eyes and turns to face Castiel who's leaning back in his chair.

"Jeez Lys, that explains a whole lot, actually."

Meek and shocked, Lysander takes a seat opposite Castiel. "Pardon?"

Castiel runs a hand through his hair. "I guess it just makes sense in hindsight. You're always guessing everything right and you're always the first to know things."

Castiel pauses to light a cigarette. He usually goes out onto the balcony to smoke, but this is a lot to take in and he needs to de-stress. "Anyway, tell me about this. Have you always been psychic? Does it run in the family? Is Leigh psychic?"

Lysander smiles for the first time today, relieved to be treated with curiosity rather than disgust. For all his shortcomings, Castiel at least has an open mind. "Where should I start?"

Castiel grins, "With the lottery numbers, if you have them."


End file.
